I Am Number Three
by Mossheart13
Summary: We all know the story of John Smith, Number Four. But whatever happened to Number Three? Story also published at leafwrites. as part of my 30-day challenge.
1. Chapter 1

**ONE**

I am Number Three.

Number Two died yesterday, just off the coast of the Gulf of Mexico.

I knew because of the scar that seared itself into my skin and formed a second ring around my ankle, just above the one I got two years ago, when they found Number One.

"Time to go, Caine," Nasya says, loading the last of our things into the red minivan she bought two years ago, right after Number One had died.

It's ironic; she said the exact same thing back then, two years ago, when the danger from the Mogadorians became perfectly real.

I haven't changed my name in the two years since One died. I chose Caine when we moved to Nashville, Tennessee, and it became part of my personality.

When we moved away and Nasya asked me what I wanted to change my name to, I said I didn't want to change it. So I hadn't. Not for the last four moves. I'm not planning to change it now, either.

"Caine, it's becoming dangerous to keep the same name after all these moves," Nasya tells me. "Especially after what happened in school the other day."

I grunt but don't reply. Two days ago, my Legacies started to develop.

The first one started when I was in school.

I was eating lunch and talking to my friend Kelsey about some unimportant topic when rain clouds began to gather over my head. Suddenly, they released a downpour on top of me.

The lunchlady took me to the principal and he called Nasya, who's supposed to be my mother, to take me home. The rain increased into a downpour until Nasya arrived and I climbed into the minivan, when my emotions finally calmed down and it stopped.

The next day, Nasya called in to say that she was pulling me out of school, and now we're moving. Again.

I'm sitting in the car and drumming my fingers on the dash when Nasya asks, "Aren't you going to ask where we're moving to?"

"No. I'll just leave it to you." I smile a little at her before returning my gaze out the window to my staring.

Nasya laughs a little. She knows I have little curiosity about things not related to my parents or my old life back on Lorien. "Well, we're moving to California."

"Where?" It suddenly catches my interest. I imagine girls in bikinis lying on the beach and the hot California sun smashing down on beaches of white sand and deep blue waves.

"San Fransisco," Nasya says indifferently.

My heart leaps.

Ever since my friend Abbey had visited San Fransisco in fifth grade, I've always wanted to see it.

"Isn't that a big city?" I ask, suddenly scared. Won't the other Garde be sticking to small towns, like Paradise, Ohio, where we'd just moved away from?

Nasya smiles at me, like she used to when I was four years old and we'd just gotten off the ship from Lorien. As far as Cêpans go, Nasya's definitely one of the best. She has white-blonde hair and a faint Loric accent that sounds remotely Swedish, and huge blue-green eyes. She's as abnormal as it's possible to be, so she dyes her hair all the time.

Right now, it's dyed a deep jet-black and she's using her brown contact lenses. Except for the Loric accent, she's as normal as it's possible to be.

"Don't worry," she says, "It's only for a short time. We'll be moving to Oregon next, to a small farm in the middle of nowhere."

"Is that where I'll train my Legacies?" I ask, curious. I can't wait to develop them. Especially the huge military one that will determine my future.

Nasya laughs, a loud, burbling sound she can't seem to control. "First, let's try to develop your telekinesis."

I bounce a little in my seat, almost as equally excited about that as I am about my Legacies.

"When do you think we'll be able to beat the Mogs?" I ask curiously. "Soon?"

Nasya sighs. "Maybe soon. But we're definitely going to have to start your training soon. The Mogs can't get through you. What if Number Four is weak?"

I sigh. "Nasya, how can a member of the Garde be _weak_? We're supposed to be the guardians of Lorien!"

"All creatures are weak until they're adults, Nasya. That's the way life works. Lorien was never supposed to fall. We were never supposed to be here in the first place. We should be on Lorien, thriving and happy like we were for thousands of years." There's a hint of sadness and regret in Nasya's voice, and I decide not to push it.

"What're we going to do in California?" I ask.

"I don't know," Nasya says. "It's mostly just how much you wanted to go."

"Nasya, are you sure we should be taking so many risks?" I cock my head a little. I mean, I know Nasya's a sort of reckless person, but not _this _reckless… unless she thinks we're going to die.

Cold dread seeps into my belly, but I keep quiet. Nasya's also stubborn. If she has decided something, I'm not going to be able to convince her otherwise. So I just keep quiet for the rest of the ride, lean back into my seat, and close my eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

The next thing I know, I'm being shaken awake by Nasya.

Sunlight streams through the window and I blink it out of my eyes.

"I took the liberty of dying your hair blonde while you slept," Nasya smiles. "Caine Threshwood is going to be unrecognizable when I'm done with her."

"What's next? Colored contacts?" I ask, joking, but my heart sinks when I see Nasya nod.

"Hazel," she says. "We're at a truck stop in L.A. I'm going to go get us some snacks. You can just sit tight." She climbs out of the truck and moves towards the truck stop.

"Yeah, okay," I say, speaking to air. I'm far more interested in observing our surroundings. L.A.? Two big cities in one day? Nasya must think our chances of survival are pretty poor.

It's just then I hear the crack of bullets. They're coming from inside the truck stop's store.

I leap out of my seat, unarmed except for a long, curved sword I found in my Chest. There better be Mogs here or no witnesses, because a girl with a two-foot sword is bound to make it into the papers.

I push open the door to the stop, and step inside.

Everything seems normal at first glance, the chips on their shelves, sodas in the fridge.

But then I notice the frightened cashier huddling behind the counter. "Don't hurt me!" she squeaks as I approach.

"It's okay," I say as soothingly as I can. "Were some tall guys with weapons here?"

The cashier nods a little and points towards the freezer section of the store. I sprint over and take in the scene.

Nasya's leg is bloody and her knife is out; she's got a bleeding scratch under one eye but seems to be otherwise unhurt. She's standing around a pile of ash when I run up.

"Caine!" she yells.

"Let's get out of here, Nasya," I tell her, grabbing her shoulder and helping her out of the store.

We've just turned our backs when the knife comes sailing out of nowhere and impales itself in my back.

I feel it rather than see it.

Nasya spins around and I fall to the floor. In just a few minutes, a third scar is going to wrap itself around the other's ankles.

I wonder what Number Four is like. I imagine he's a boy, strong, and able to defeat the Mogs. Four won't let anyone get through him. _Can't. _If he dies, then Five could die, then Six, then Seven, then Eight, then Nine.

And then it'd be over. The Mogs would've won. Lorien would be theirs, and so would Earth.

"Good job, Felix," Nasya says. "Now where's my money?"

"It's here." The heavyset pale-skinned Mog pushes a wadful of bills into Nasya's hand.

_Nasya? A traitor? Never! _My Cêpan had always been so loyal, so devoted to her job. She isn't a traitor.

She couldn't be.

But now she was.

I heave myself to my feet, sword in hand, as quickly as I can, and a jolt of pain runs through my back. The Mog's hit me, but not in the spine. It'll be a while yet till I die of blood loss.

I can't believe what I'm about to do, but I have no choice. I raise the sword and plunge it into my Cêpan's belly.


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

Nasya falls, gasping with the shock. Now the Mog's noticed I'm up. He turns to me, and I stick my sword through him, too. He crumples to ash on the ground.

My palms begin to shine with a strange, eerie light, and the ground beneath me begins to shake.

_"Lumen," _Nasya whispers. Her brown contact lenses meet my eyes, and I refuse to accept their apology.

"Why's the ground shaking?" I ask. Even after Nasya's betrayed me, she's still the only one I can turn to for guidance.

"Earthquake powers." Nasya's lips show the hint of a smile. "Your telekinesis can't be far away now."

My body stiffens at the sound of that. My Legacies. My telekinesis. I had been looking forward to learning these things with her.

And now, Nasya's dying.

And I've killed her.

"I'm sorry," I whisper as she gurgles her last breath. Blood spills over her lips, making it look as if she's wearing red lipstick. "I never meant to hurt you."

She convulses, looking like she's going to say something, but I can't understand a word of it.

Her eyes go wide at something behind me.

"What is it?" I turn to see a huge Mog behind me, advancing on me. No smart member of the Garde would have stayed by their dead Cêpan for so long with Mogs in the area. But I'm not smart.

"Nasya!" I instinctively look to my fallen Cêpan for guidance, but when I stare into those eyes, I see they have stilled.

Nasya, my lovely, lovely Loric Cêpan, is dead.

The Mog is advancing on me now. I reach out and grab the sword from the pile of ash of the other Mog and look defiantly into the other Mog's eyes. "You'll never take me."

I cast away my own sword. There's nowhere to run, no place to hide.

I've backed myself into a corner. I have time for one last act of defiance.

So I do it.

I plunge the sword into myself, breaking the Loric charm protecting me.

Just before I die, I feel the pain.

Another scar is wrapping itself around my ankle.

Number Three, Caine Threshwood, is dead.

**No, ****_I Am Number Four _****doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Pittacus Lore. Caine Threshwood, Nasya, and my writing are my own.**


End file.
